Heinz

Heinz and his wife pose with me after 2 hours of bliss...
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OK – I’ll admit it. One of the many reasons I travel to Asia so often is the prospect of a good foot massage – well, many, to be a little more precise. When what costs upwards of AU$50 back home can be fetched for a mere song over here, it’s hard to stop oneself going a bit “reflexology crazy” when one sees that beloved novely-sized foot in the shop window, replete with its pictures of vital organs in every crevice just to remind you that our feet are in fact a very important part of our body. I find that many of my walking tours are frequently punctuated by the brief 45 minute adjournment as I sit back on a comfortable couch and let an expert go to work on my weary soles.

Frontal view of the main street of the charming and elegant Muslim quater...
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‘Sheer joy’ are the words I’d use to describe my reaction to a poster advertising in-hous massages at our guesthouse in Xi’an. ‘What, you mean they come to me?’ I asked the caretaker in disbelief. At 5:00pm, a young man shorter than me and about as slim arrived and went to work as I lay back on the guesthouse couch.

...sound curious? It is! Try a foot massage today!

As is my custom, many of the questions I received about myself – where I was from, how old I am, my marital status, religion, etc. (yes, sometimes people want to know a lot about you!) – I reciprocated. Learning about my masseur in installments, I gasped and sighed my way through the prodding, jabbing, rubbing of knuckles, thumbs and palms against toes, arches, heels, kneecaps and shins (sound curious? It is! Try a foot massage today!)

An old Chinese Muslim sits and admires his locale...
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Heinz was a year older than me and his solid grasp of English, open-mindedness, curiosity and obvious intellect allowed me to really exchange some fascinating ideas and for us to learn a lot about each other’s worlds. He and his wife had moved over one hundred kilometres from a tiny village to the big smoke of Xi’an (quite literally, when you see the pollution here). They had been fortunate enough to get on the books of many backpackers’ hostels. Every time a guest ordered a massage, Heinz and his wife would walk from their dingy, windowless one-bedroom apartment somewhere between two and six kilometers to the hostel concerned, to receive thirty percent of the massage fee listed (which usually amounted to about AU$2.60). On a good day, they might make close to $25 between them. Their fifteen month-old son lived with Heinz’s mother in the village because their business hadn’t yet taken off. I asked Heinz how often he visited his son? Once a month, he replied.

Felicity making a sterling terracotta warrior!
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It’s one thing to talk about China’s vast gap between rich and poor, when one person literally earns US$2 a day, while in the same street another person earns US$200,000 a day; it’s another to meet and befriend someone much closer to the US$2 end of the spectrum. And yet, what is more amazing still, is that for all his hardship and reasons to be disgruntled about my wealth, the wealth of the developed world in general, and the wealth of his pseudo-communist compatriots – for all this, Heinz is one of the most connected, sincere and content people I have ever met. Regardless of his own social status, he is acutely mindful of the many Chinese we tourists generally don’t meet: peasant farmers, journeymen, maids, nannies and of course, factory workers. Heinz had himself managed to ‘escape’  the factories to work as a masseur by virtue of having taught himself English reading newspapers and going out of his way to speak to foreigners.

Picture of excavated warriors...
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When we truly open up to the experience of others in developing counties – and by this, I mean their wisdom in the face of hardship – we perhaps might begin to realize how intoxicating and corrupting our desires for bigger iPods, dream holidays, houses by the water and modified sports cars can be in relation to our real happiness. Hopefully when I think about the next thing I want and don’t really need, I’ll think back to what Heinz has silently taught me. Why? Because, seriously, me having a new car, bigger iPod or mansion will never be as important has he and his wife having enough money to have their young child live with them. That’s what money should be for in this world.

Main warrior excavation site...
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Thanks, Heinz, for the incredible foot massages and for those life lessons I’ll try hard not to forget.